Murder Magic
by InkheartFirebringer
Summary: When the B.A.U. are called in to investigate a serial killer, their primary suspect is a certain black-haired, green-eyed young man who was seen hanging around several of the crime scenes.
1. When Lines Converge

**A/N: Hey there. :D I've been watching Criminal Minds recently and couldn't get this idea out of my head. It's been hanging around, demanding to be written, so I decided to comply and churned this out in a couple of hours. It's definitely not my best work but I just wanted rid of the plot-bunny; so here it is, for your enjoyment. ^_^ I also tried to get my American right; I'm from the UK so a few errors might have slipped in.**

**Also, if I get enough reviews, I might continue it; the idea definitely has potential. Anyway, enjoy and please leave a review!**

**Disclaimer: Criminal Minds – it is not mine. Not even Dr. Spencer Reid. *sigh* ...Oh, and Harry Potter doesn't belong to me either.**

* * *

**Murder Magic**

**Chapter One: When Lines Converge**

* * *

Reid rose from his crouch, having finished examining the body. The young woman was blonde and attractive; her brown eyes stared sightlessly at the night sky, frozen in an expression of terror.

"Pretty sick bastard, to have done this, huh?" Morgan stood next to him, grimacing.

"I think that's an understatement," murmured Reid, his gaze drawn unwillingly once more to the mutilated corpse.

Around them, the scene buzzed with activity. Gideon and Hotch were talking to a shivering woman – though from whether it was from the cold or fear, it was hard to tell. She was a prostitute who had discovered the body and she looked almost as terrified as the victim. Prentiss was deep in conversation with the police officer in charge, while his subordinates documented the area around the corpse. The familiar yellow-and-black crime scene tape fluttered in the breeze, holding back the curious gawkers who were milling about on the sidewalk and craning their necks to see down the alley, trying to catch a glimpse of the body.

"I'm going to see if JJ needs any help." Morgan jogged over to where the harassed agent was trying to dissuade the bystanders from their morbid curiosity.

Reid took a deep breath, drawing the cold night air into his lungs in an attempt to banish the lingering smell of blood with a pleasanter scent. It didn't work. In the city centre, the dominant smell was gas fumes; only marginally better than blood.

The young genius' unfocused stare drifted across the curious pedestrians, absent-mindedly profiling them – then his gaze sharpened and he focused intently on the one person whose appearance jumped out at him.

Across the road, in the shadows of the mouth of an alley, a young man leant against the brick wall. To the casual observer, his demeanour was relaxed and mildly interested – but to a profiler, there was a subtle, underlying tension visible in his stance. He wore black sneakers, navy-blue jeans and a long-sleeved, black T-shirt; all of which fit him like a glove and showed off a lean, muscular body. He was tall and handsome, with messy, raven-black hair and quietly intense green eyes, which watched the scene with an unreadable stare.

Reid gaped in astonishment, hardly able to believe their luck. He opened his mouth to speak, to call out to the team, when the young man's gaze suddenly snagged on his. The brilliant green eyes widened slightly, startled; then he turned and melted into the shadows of the alley.

"No!" Reid sped forward instinctively, swerving around Morgan and JJ, and rushing past the inquisitive bystanders.

"Reid! What is it?" He heard Morgan's shout as he darted across the road. The boy genius paused briefly to call over his shoulder, "I think the Unsub just went down that alley!"

* * *

_The Previous Day..._

* * *

"... there have been eleven victims in the past two weeks, all of them female, between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five," JJ informed the team, clicking her remote. The six agents sat around the round table, watching the pictures of the dead young women flashing up on the screen, one after the other.

"Clearly a highly prolific serial killer; a sadistic one judging by the bodies –" The images aligned themselves on the board; every single woman was covered in a multitude of lacerations, etched into their skin with surgical precision. "– and he is also sexually motivated, as the victims show evidence of having been raped."

"The wounds are shallow and designed to inflict the maximum amount of pain," Gideon pointed out, his dark eyes unfathomable as he examined the pictures.

"So this creep probably gets off on their pain – and their fear too, most likely," concluded Morgan with disgust.

"The cuts are also clean and sharp; no ragged edges, so no hesitation from our Unsub," Reid commented. "He's very certain that he wants to kill them."

"There's something else you should know." JJ pressed a button, and eleven snapshots filled the screen.

"'Mudblood'?" questioned Prentiss softly, her eyes filled with revulsion. Gideon leaned forward, his gaze intensifying. The images showed the word 'Mudblood' had been carved into the skin of each of the victims' forearms.

"Mud...dirt? Dirty blood? Is there a racial motive here?" Morgan quickly made the leap in logic.

Hotch shook his head. "I don't think so. Look at the pictures – the women range in race. The killer isn't discriminatory that way. Apart from age and sex, there's no apparent physical link."

"You're missing the most intriguing aspect," Gideon murmured. "JJ, would I be correct in saying that the word is, in fact, in the victim's own handwriting?"

"Yes." JJ looked revolted. "It would appear that the Unsub made them carve it into their own skin."

"That would also explain the variation," Gideon nodded.

"Variation?" questioned Prentiss.

"Ah, if you look closer, the particular forearm which has been mutilated varies from victim to victim," Reid explained. "If the killer wrote it, he would stick to the same arm, but if the _women_ themselves wrote the word, then it would change depending on whether they were left or right-handed. However, the thing that doesn't make sense about that particular theory is that 'Mudblood' is written with such clean precision."

"What do you mean?" Morgan asked.

"Could you cut a word into your skin so neatly?" Gideon looked at him. "The writing should be a lot shakier, and the wound a great deal messier, if the women were forced to write it. However, apart from that one detail, the theory makes sense."

There was silence for a few minutes as the team absorbed the new information. Then Gideon nodded, apparently having made a decision. "So, based on our evidence so far, the Unsub is mostly likely a male between the ages of seventeen and thirty. He is probably handsome, confident – and charming enough to persuade the women to accompany him, either on a date or to a secluded area. The lack of blood at the crime scene indicates that they were killed elsewhere and then were simply dumped in various locations around the city centre. It makes sense, considering that evidence also shows they were raped and that they died slowly, suggesting that he lingered over the kill in order to prolong their pain – both of which the Unsub probably preferred privacy for."

"This guy is one sick bastard," Morgan muttered, shaking his head.

"Ah, there's something I forgot to mention," JJ said apologetically. "Witnesses report sightings of a young man – apparently the same one – near several of the crime scenes. They say he was just watching what was going on, like the rest of them, but that he stood apart from the rest of the crowd. Physical description is sketchy but consistent; they all say he was tall, attractive and had black hair. Only one person was close enough to notice that he had bright, distinctive green eyes."

"Think this guy is our Unsub?" Morgan cast a glance at Gideon, looking ready to leap into action instantly.

The older agent nodded thoughtfully. "It's a definitive possibility. Revisiting the crime scene to relive the memory is consistent with the profile. He may also try to insert himself into the investigation; we'll have to be ready if he does." He appeared lost in thought for a few more moments, and then looked at JJ. "Have Garcia run a search; cross-reference the physical description with the sex offenders register. It's possible that murder is merely an escalation of previous sex crimes. Also, the Unsub may have a personal hatred of women; one, most likely his mother, set a bad example – perhaps by committing adultery and consequently destroying his family at a young age. 'Mudblood' might refer to the fact that he regards women as 'dirty' – or as lesser beings."

JJ nodded and whipped out her cell phone. Gideon looked at the other members of the B.A.U. "The rest of you – the plane leaves in half an hour. Get your things together. We have a serial killer to catch."

* * *

_The Present..._

* * *

Reid sprinted into the alley, unhooking his gun as he ran. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he saw that alley itself was completely empty apart from a few trashcans and stray pieces of litter. The suspect had just reached the end of the narrow passageway and disappeared through a door into the interior of the adjoining building.

Reid slowed as he reached the door and then carefully nudged it open a little wider. His brain was only just catching up with his impulsive actions and now urged caution; he could hear the shouts of the rest of the B.A.U. team approaching but that was no reason to rush in and get himself killed.

Then Reid's eyes widened in surprise as the inside of the building became visible. It was an old movie theatre, ancient and run-down. The seats were red velvet – once plush and luxurious, now just threadbare and worn. One functioning spotlight still shone brilliantly, illuminating centre-stage. The harsh light was not kind to the old scenery – the paint was revealed as cracked and faded, the backdrop dangled sadly from one hook, and the curtains were filthy and moth-eaten.

However, Reid's attention was drawn to a door on the far side of the stage. Golden light spilled from underneath it. The agent crept stealthily across the room, threading his way through the rows of seats and up the stairs at the side of the stage. He pressed an ear to the door and listened intently.

"...Ron, he's not stupid. He's not going stick around." The muffled voice sent a thrill of triumph shooting through Reid – then he realised belatedly that it was a woman speaking.

"I thought you said that he was mad, though?" The second voice was undoubtedly male and held a hint of uncertainty. _Two Unsubs? A team?_

"There's a difference between stupid and mad," a third voice joined in, also male.

_Three Unsubs? That's pretty rare. Partnerships usually only consist of two; a dominant and a submissive. Not to mention that one is a women! And who is this 'he' they speak of? _Reid's highly capable mind whirred frantically, juggling the pieces of the puzzle in an attempt to create a coherent picture.

"Besides, he's cunning in his madness," the female voice spoke. She sounded wearily exasperated. "If we want to find him, we're going to have to get creative."

"Well, the sooner the better. This bastard's going to Azkaban and getting the Dementor's Kiss if I have anything to say about it." The third voice was dark with anger.

_Azkaban? Dementor's Kiss? _Reid's brain searched for a reference in his internal database. _Is that code for something? It almost sounds as if _they_ are looking for the Unsub..._

_S_ilence fell for a few moments. Reid listened, his heart beating loud in his ears.

It was broken by a sigh. Then the female voice spoke again. "Ron, can you go and find Ginny? We need to re-group and she ought to have finished by now."

"Will do." The next second, a deafening crack echoed through the door. Reid fell back, unable to suppress a startled yelp at the noise.

"What was that?" The young genius struggled back into a sitting position as the sound of footsteps came from the other side of the door. He swung his gun up as the door creaked open. "Oh!"

A pretty girl of about nineteen looked down at him in surprise. She had a mane of brown curls and deep chocolate eyes; her crimson cashmere sweater and black jeans contrasted vividly against her pale skin. Behind her stood the raven-haired young man Reid had originally followed. Up close, he looked about the same age as the girl, no older than nineteen.

However, Reid's brain merely registered all these details automatically. What truly captured his attention was the objects they both held in their hands; long, slender pieces of wood that glowed at the tip with a subtle, yet somehow brilliant, white light. It illuminated the darkest corners of the old theatre.

_Magic wands._ The thought that came to the forefront of his mind immediately was absurd, unthinkable; Reid rejected it instantly as impossible. It was merely image association that caused him to make that connection. But yet...his disbelieving gaze then came to rest on what was behind the two young people. A lantern that radiated warm, golden light – _and it was floating in mid-air_. Reid's brain stalled.

"Oops," murmured the girl, casting a glance at the lantern and then at the wood in her hand.

"I'll take care of it. You go on." The boy stepped forward, looking weary but resigned. She nodded, turned on her heel – and vanished, accompanied by a quiet pop.

Reid's mind flailed under the sheer impossibility of what he had just seen; only to be pushed aside by a sudden burst of alarm as he noticed the young man pointing the wand directly been his eyes. _Didn't he say he that he would 'take care of it'? 'It' being me?_

"Sorry about this." The teenager did look genuinely apologetic. "Muggles aren't allowed to know about us, you see. It's against the rules."

Reid swallowed and tightened his finger on the trigger of his gun. Realisation flicked in the young man's green eyes. "Oh, I'm not going to kill you. Even if it was necessary... well, I've seen enough death to last me a lifetime." The last sentence was added in an undertone, laced with bitterness and grief. "I'll just make you forget what you saw."

Curiosity surfaced in Reid, despite the situation. His brain was still floundering under the impossible things he had witnessed but his interest was piqued by the strange teenager in front of him. "Who are you?"

A smile tugged at the young man's mouth. "Harry." He replied simply. "Just Harry." His smile turned apologetic again. "I really am sorry about this."

Reid found himself staring down the length of what he was increasingly inclined believe was a genuine magic wand. He could hear the sounds of his fellow B.A.U. members; by the volume, they were almost directly outside the door to the theatre. He looked up into brilliant green eyes and was momentarily stunned by the depth within them; they were the eyes of a man much older than nineteen. A man who had seen too much. They were filled with the echoes of old grief, loss, and despair – but also the strength, wisdom and maturity gained from such things. Currently, they radiated regret.

"_Oblivate!"_

There was a bright flash of light and something warm rushed over Reid. Then, for the first time in his life, his mind went completely and utterly blank.

* * *

**A/N: Remember to review! Thanks. ^_^**


	2. By the Flowers of the Garden

**A/N: Wow. :O I'm...staggered, frankly, by the response to this story. My inbox is stuffed full of alerts, favs and reviews. Which feels amazing, actually. ^_^ Thanks so much to everyone who gave their time to my story – I appreciate each and every one of you. :D Also, I replied to those who left a review, but for the reviewers who have disabled private messaging, I couldn't respond to you individually but know that I read and enjoyed your reviews as well. :)**

**Disclaimer: Nope. Still don't own either of them. Criminal Minds and Harry Potter are someone else's creation.**

* * *

**Murder Magic**

**Chapter Two: By the Flowers of the Garden**

* * *

_Reid..._

_The voice spoke his name, the sound echoing around the vast space inside his head._

_Reeeiid..._

_A flash of light. A flicker of memory. Then it was gone, flitting away into the blackness. A whisper in the dark._

"Reid! _Reid!_"

A hand, patting his cheek frantically.

"C'mon kid!"

Reid blinked and the stage of the old theatre swam into view around him, slowly reforming in his fractured vision. Morgan's and JJ's worried faces hovered above him. As he opened his eyes, they heaved a simultaneous sigh of relief.

"You had us seriously worried for a minute there, kid." Morgan helped him to sit up. "What happened?"

"I..." Reid reached for the memory, only to find...nothing. No sharp-edged, crisp, perfect recollection. Nothing but black. "I..." Panic leapt in his throat, choking him. "I can't remember!"

Morgan and JJ exchanged a quick look that did nothing to ease his sudden terror. "It's okay, Reid," JJ soothed. "There's a lump on the back of your head; the Unsub must have knocked you out. We're waiting for the ambulance to arrive and get you checked out, but you've probably just got a minor concussion. There might be some small memory loss because of the impact, but it should return in time."

JJ's logical reassurance calmed Reid a little, as he realised what she said made sense. "I – I – suppose," he said shakily. There was nothing that scared him more than the threat of losing his mental abilities.

"What's the last thing you remember?" JJ asked gently, aware of how sensitive a subject it was for the young genius.

"Ah..." Reid concentrated. To his relief, the majority of his memories came easily, despite the awful gap. "I was chasing the Unsub down the alley and he disappeared into the theatre. I followed him inside... there was light coming from underneath a door, so I went up to it...and then, nothing after that."

"That must have been a trap," mused Morgan, his features darkening in anger. "He must have sneaked up behind you and hit you with something. There are plenty of old bits of scenery lying around – perfect for an opportunistic weapon." He shook his head in disgust. "When I get a hold of that bastard, I'm going to wring his neck."

Reid's thoughts began to unscramble themselves, shuffling back into some semblance of their usual order and he realised that the rest of the team was missing. "Where is everyone else?"

"Searching the building," JJ replied. She and Morgan gently eased Reid back up onto his feet.

"Not that they'll find anything," muttered Morgan, frustration clear on his face. "The Unsub will be long gone by now."

xxx

Harry Apparated directly into the hotel room which was their current designated base of operations. He landed with a loud crack and a quiet curse. Brooms were still his preferred method of transportation. No risk of Splinching or ending up on the wrong side of the country – unless you were really, really bad with directions.

"Are you okay?" A pair of arms wrapped around his torso and Harry looked down into the concerned brown eyes of his girlfriend.

"I'm fine, Ginny." He placed a light, reassuring kiss on her lips. "I got out before the rest of the FBI agents showed up."

"Hmm. It was still a stupid risk. You three idiots were almost caught."

"You can't blame me this time, Ginny," Ron called from across the room. "They followed _Harry _into the theatre."

The hotel room was large, spacious and decorated in warm tones; predominantly gold and yellow. A large king-sized bed was situated against one wall and four comfortable armchairs were grouped around a low, wide coffee table, which was strewn with piles of paper. Soft alcove lights cast a gentle golden glow on a huge mirror that dominated one wall. However, the mirror could not be used for its intended purpose due to the fact it was covered in photographs – both Muggle and magical – and sheets of notes written in Hermione's impeccable handwriting. They surrounded a huge map of the city, which was now criss-crossed with pins and heavily marked in red ink. Hermione stood in front of the evidence wall, a pen in her right hand as she consulted a notebook in her left hand. Ron was lounging on the king-sized bed, a folder open in front of him as he grinned over at Harry and Ginny.

"Actually, I _can_ blame you," Ginny growled, tightening her grip around her boyfriend's waist. "None of you were careful enough; that FBI agent _saw _you being very obviously magical."

"What!" Ron sat up in indignation. "That guy –"

"Spencer Reid," Hermione interrupted absently, without removing her attention from what she was doing.

"Huh?" Ron looked nonplussed.

She glanced up briefly in exasperation. "His name is Spencer Reid, Ron. He's a member of the B.A.U., the FBI unit that's handling the Muggle investigation into this killer, remember? I gave you an entire file on each B.A.U. member to look at, in case of the very likely event of us running into one or more of them during this case. Honestly, do you ever pay attention?"

"Yes, I do!" The wizard snapped, stung by her accusation. "I am getting better at that, 'Mione."

She twitched angrily. "Don't call me that, _Ronald_."

"Don't call _me_ Ronald then –"

Harry quickly interrupted before it could dissolve into one of their infamous rows. "It doesn't really matter. What were you saying before, Ron?"

Ron blinked, derailed by Harry's intervention. "Um...ah, I was just saying this Reid guy only saw Hermione and you. Not me."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Yes, _but _my point is that you were being equally careless. If you hadn't left at that moment, he would have seen you too. You _all _need to watch yourselves more."

"Yes, _mother_."

The fiery redhead flared instantly. "Take that back, you smug little –"

Harry merely shook his head, resigned to an argument between Ron and Ginny, instead of Ron and Hermione. Ignoring the pair, he made his way over to his intelligent friend where she stood in front of the mirror-turned-evidence-wall. The witch flicked a sideways glance at him, before looking back at her notepad. "I really like this method that the B.A.U. uses," she murmured, gesturing at the evidence wall. "Just one of the many useful Muggle ideas that the Aurors could incorporate into their investigations."

Harry smiled. It was one of Hermione's many pet projects, to get the magical world to accept that non-magical ways of doing things could be just as good. "If anyone can persuade them, it's you."

"Us," she amended firmly. "_We _can persuade them. The suggestions of 'The Golden Trio' carry a lot of weight in Wizarding Britain, as you well know."

Harry grimaced. As much as he had wished to be 'Just Harry' pretty much his whole life, since the war ended he had finally come to realise the impossibility of that wish. If he thought that the Wizarding world loved/adored/obsessed over him before, it was nothing compared to the way they treated him now that he had finally killed Voldemort for good. However, Harry had eventually come to the conclusion that as much as he disliked his fame, if he was stuck with it, he might as well put the influence it gave him to good use – such as improving the effectiveness of the Aurors for instance.

"Hey." Hermione broke into his thoughts with a gentle touch on his elbow. "It'll be okay." Her chocolate eyes were warm and reassuring. "I know it's hard to get used to, but I think everyone fawning over us is just something we'll have to accept. Hopefully it'll die down as time goes on, but for now it gives us a lot of political clout to make useful changes, both to the government and the way wizards think about and regard Muggles. Changes that'll hopefully prevent the sort of conditions within our society that enabled Voldemort to gain such a following in the first place. That way we might be able to stop the rise of any similar Dark Lords in the future."

Harry smiled. "You always manage to make me see the positive. Thanks, Hermione." She flushed pink and beamed at the praise.

"Hey, you better not be poaching my man over here, sister," Ginny broke in as she bounded up behind the pair, her quarrel with Ron apparently settled. Her grin was teasing as she linked arms with her friends.

"Wouldn't dream of it," replied Hermione, trying and failing to hide her smile. "Ron, where are you going?" she called, spotting him as he was halfway through the door into one of the adjoining rooms of their hotel suite.

Ron waved a cell phone at her. "To call Susan." He disappeared into the other room.

"Oh dear." Ginny hurriedly disentangled herself from her friends. "I'd better supervise. I think he's finally realised that he doesn't need to _yell_ down the line at her, but he's bound to run into some problem or the other after a while." She sped after her brother.

Hermione looked after her with a fond smile. "She's taken _so _well to Muggle technology. Ginny is living proof that a pureblood can understand and enjoy the non-magical way of life."

Harry chuckled. "Whereas Ron's the opposite."

The witch grimaced. "Oh, _don't_. I'm not counting him as part of the experiment." Living amongst Muggles had severely limited the amount of magic that they could safely use. They were attempting to stay under the radar as much as possible and magic definitely counted as 'conspicuous'. And, apart from the issue of the Muggles, the wizard they were hunting would also be able to sense them if they used magic too frequently or for prolonged periods of time. As such, introducing the two Weasleys to lots of different Muggle technology had been not only an experiment, but a necessity.

"Hmm." Harry smiled. "I know it sounds odd, but in a strange way I sort of like the sibling bickering between them. They argued like that when they were younger, before the war; and they still do now. It's reassuring, somehow."

Hermione scowled briefly. "_I _don't like still constantly getting into arguments with him." The witch caught Harry's eyes and sighed. "But he is admittedly better of late."

She looked up at the evidence board thoughtfully, and then said softly, "I do know what you mean about it being reassuring in a way, though. It's a constant."

Reaching out to one of the photographs, she traced the outline of a young girl with one fingertip. Fifteen-year-old Muggleborn Sara Williams beamed up out of the picture, secure in the arms of her loving parents. "It inspires hope. Not everything was lost. Some things survived despite the odds." Her expression hardened. "And with any luck, some _people_ will survive when we catch this murderer."

Harry nodded, the slow-burning fire of his anger crackling to life again at the mere mention of the killer. "Bloody Death Eaters. It's been just over two years since Voldemort died and we're still rounding up these bastards."

Hermione shot him a reproving look for his language. "I know. I'm just glad that the American Aurors give our team free rein on this case. We're not even sure which Death Eater it is yet; plus we're all pretty young for Aurors. I was afraid someone over here might try to override our authority. "

Harry shrugged. "We're not _that _young. Ginny's nineteen, Ron and I are twenty, and you're twenty-one."

The witch laughed. "For most _that _would be young." She sobered. "But then we've all faced things in our teens that grown men and women have never had to deal with. We're a heck of a lot more mature than most people our age."

Harry nodded in agreement. "Not to mention we've had years of practical experience fighting Dark wizards and we've all been working hard to learn the theory stuff. You've been teaching us all the advanced spellwork and we couldn't have a better instructor." Hermione beamed at the compliment.

"And frankly the British Ministry of Magic needs all the help it can get," Harry said in disgust. Even though Kingsley – as the new Minister – had weeded out all the Voldemort supporters and Umbridge-like people right at the start, he still harboured an instinctive dislike of the Ministry. Perhaps that would change with time. "Even two years after Voldemort's defeat, we're a broken country. The government is slowly putting itself back together and there's a desperate shortage of Aurors. We're here, we're willing, and we have the practical experience. We might not have all the _official_ Auror training yet, but we're doing it as we go along and we have what we need to survive. The American Aurors will have taken that into account when we requested permission to pursue this Death Eater onto American soil, and they've offered help if we need it."

Hermione sighed and nodded in agreement. "I suppose technically we could have just let the Americans deal with him but they know as well as we do that it's something that Britain needs to take care of for itself, even if only to reassure ourselves that we _can_."

Harry grimaced. "Which is a bit of a joke in itself, since our government proved itself entirely incapable of that during the last war."

The sound of a door opening made them both look up. Ron and Ginny walked back into the room, the former with an enormous grin plastered across his face. "Susan's fine," he informed them happily, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "I can't wait to see her again." His wide smile left them in no doubt about that. "I'll go make dinner, shall I?" Without waiting for a reply, he bounded into the kitchen.

"Susan Bones is a saint," murmured Ginny, coming up to stand beside Harry. "I love my brother but I completely understand why you dumped him, Hermione."

"It takes a woman with a great deal more patience than I to put up with Ronald Weasley," answered Hermione, a teasing sparkle in her eyes. "A quality, thank god, that Susan has in abundance. He adores her and she has him wrapped completely around her little finger."

There was a loud crash from the kitchen and all three winced. "However, she hasn't quite managed to install the basics of cooking in him yet," Hermione sighed. "I'd better go help; he might accidently set the building on fire again."

As the other witch hurried off, Ginny turned around to find that Harry had moved and was sprawled in one of big, comfy armchairs. He grinned and opened his arms invitingly, a teasing grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. The redhead needed no further invitation. Within seconds, she was curled up in Harry's lap, wrapped securely in his arms.

"What brought this on?" Ginny murmured, not really caring much about the answer. The stress of this particular case had been affecting all of them and the two lovers hadn't been as physically close as they normally were. Only now did the witch realise how much she'd been missing it; how good it felt just to have Harry's arms around her, to have her head resting on his chest, to listen to steady, reassuring beat of his heart.

"Do I need a reason to snuggle up with my beautiful lover?" Harry's amused voice vibrated through his chest, tickling her ear.

"Smooth, Mr Potter, very smooth," Ginny turned her head and pressed her face to the bare skin of his throat. Harry felt her lips curve up in a smile, velvet-soft against his skin. "I can't believe you just used the word 'snuggle' though."

"I," he murmured teasingly, trailing feather-light kisses down her neck, "Am perfectly secure enough within my masculinity to use such a girly word." Ginny sighed, as the soft, barely-there sensation of his lips sent shivers of pleasure racing across her skin, raising the hairs on her arms. He'd gotten a lot bolder in last two years, as his confidence within himself had grown.

Ginny twisted in his arms and raised herself up to meet him. "Is that so, Mr Potter?" she purred, tilting her head and staring into his striking green eyes, which were bright with both humour and desire. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to provide evidence of this supposed masculinity for me?"

Harry laughed, the glow of happiness flaring visibly in his eyes, and he pulled her down into a slow, deep kiss.

There was no more talking for a long time after that.

xxx

Reid sighed as he dumped his bag on the table of the B.A.U.'s meeting room. He had only just been released from hospital where the doctors had found that he did indeed have a mild concussion. As such, he had been ordered to take it easy for a bit. Which meant he'd be stuck here at police headquarters for the rest of the foreseeable future, while the rest of the team were out and about at crime scenes.

"We're just a phone call away if you need us, kid," Morgan promised, regarding him from the doorway with concern. Reid acknowledged him with a moody nod. The dark-skinned agent hesitated and then left with a sigh, going to rejoin the rest of the B.A.U. members outside the police headquarters.

Reid pulled his legs up so that he was sitting cross-legged on a swivel chair and began absently spinning himself around. The real reason for his bad mood, as they all knew, was not because he was being left behind at the police station – he often did that anyway, in order to map out the geographical profile of the Unsub – but because his memory had still not returned. His perfect, crystal-clear memory had a gaping, ragged hole in it, and that caused him more distress than any physical wound ever could.

The young genius started replaying the last thing he could remember in his head, for about the fiftieth time, in the vain hope that this time it might suddenly jog his memory. Reid wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there, when the shrill ring of a telephone abruptly sliced through his concentration. He jumped in surprise and almost fell out of the chair. He been so internally focused, he'd barely been aware of the outside world.

Reid scrambled for the phone, picked it up and held it to his ear. "Doctor Spencer Reid of the B.A.U. speaking..."

Forty seconds later, he was hastily pulling out his cell phone and typing in a rapid sequence of numbers. He waited with uncharacteristic impatience as the phone rang. "Hello, Morgan? An officer just reported in; they've found another body."

* * *

**A/N: Please leave a review! You know you want to. ;D**


	3. What is Best in Us

**A/N: Hey there all. Sorry for the lateness of this update – my USB loves a good virus and unfortunately it fed the first version of this chapter to said virus. :'( So I had to rewrite it. The whole thing. Which was not good for my state of mind, particularly since this chapter took such a long time to write the first time around. Annnnyway. xD It's here now and that's what's important, right? *hopeful smile***

**Thanks you all so much for your favs, alerts, reviews and views for chapter two! A very belated Merry Christmas and Happy New Year from me!**

**Disclaimer: I did ask but Santa didn't grant me ownership rights for either Harry Potter or Criminal Minds. :( But I did order a boxset of seasons one to six for my very own. :)**

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**Murder Magic**

**Chapter Three: ****What is Best in Us**

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The following morning saw Reid walking down a busy street in the city centre. The sun shone down out of a brilliant blue sky, criss-crossed with the white trails of aeroplanes. The air was cool with the first chill of autumn; earlier that morning, frost had rimmed the pavements. Car horns blared and music boomed from speakers. The smell of sizzling onions hung tantalisingly in the air and Reid's stomach growled impatiently, as if to underline once again that it was ten o'clock and he still hadn't eaten.

_Well, I'm going to remedy that right now, _he reminded himself, spotting a branch of Starbucks on the corner. _Coffee and cake probably isn't the healthiest breakfast – or rather brunch – but I need to be awake to be of use._

Last night the rest of the B.A.U. had returned, grim-faced, from the crime scene. There had been little new evidence to report and no further sightings of the young man who was now their primary suspect for the Unsub. By that point it had been almost four in the morning and as such Reid, like the rest of them, had had very little sleep.

The young genius pushed open the door to Starbucks and the rich aroma of coffee swept over him. The mere smell was invigorating and he joined the queue eagerly. After waiting for what felt like an age, Reid's turn finally came. Accepting the cup, he thanked the serving girl and made his way over to the little side counter, where he spooned liberal amounts of sugar into his coffee.

Turning, Reid began weaving through the tables and chairs, heading for the door. Then his foot caught on the strap of someone's bag and he tripped, falling into a girl standing in front of him. Both of their cups of coffee went flying as they crashed to the floor and to his intense embarrassment, the agent found himself sprawled full length on top of the girl.

Reid raised his head, an apology already hovering on his lips, but the words died as he stared into a pair of surprised, chocolate-brown eyes not two inches away from his own. Mahogany curls framed a strikingly pretty heart-shaped face. Her skin was a soft white and she was breathing fast, in quick startled pants; something Reid was extremely aware of, pressed against her as he was. But it was none of these observations that caused him to lose coherence; instead, it was the overwhelming feeling of déjà vu as he stared at her face, a sensation so strong he could almost taste it. But Reid was quite certain that he had never laid eyes on this girl before in his life.

A blush was creeping across her cheeks and Reid felt the heat rise in his own face as he realised that he was still lying on top of her, pinning her to the floor. "Ah, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to –" he apologised hastily, quickly scrambling to his feet and offering her a hand up. The girl accepted it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. She was wearing dark blue jeans and a pale pink T-shirt, along with a pair of white sneakers. "– I mean, I didn't mean to fall at all, but even if I did, I wouldn't fallen on _you _–" He shut up abruptly, aware that he was babbling.

The brunette laughed, albeit a little shakily. "It's fine, honestly." She straightened her clothes and tucked a lock a hair behind one ear. A slightly awkward silence descended, with Reid trying his hardest not to openly stare. His rational mind was warring with his subconscious – which was stubbornly insisting that he had seen this girl before.

Reid fidgeted, uncomfortable with what he wanted to say, but couldn't hold it back any longer. "Excuse me," he burst out. "But have we met before?"

For a second, the young genius could have almost sworn that something like alarm flickered across her face; then it was gone, swallowed up by amusement. "That's not very original," the brunette commented, laughter sparkling in her eyes.

"What?" Reid blinked in confusion. Then the meaning of her statement sank in. "Ah! Oh – no, that's not what I –" The agent floundered, completely derailed by the turn of the conversation.

The girl laughed. "I know, I'm just teasing. I'm Hermione by the way. Hermione Granger."

"Ah, I'm Spencer Reid." He was grateful that she had pushed the conversation back into more comfortable territory. His eyes fell on their split cups of coffee, now being mopped up by an irate waitress. "I really am sorry about that. Can I buy you another coffee?" Too late, he realised his question sounded like another line.

Mirth shone in Hermione's eyes but thankfully she didn't call him on it. Perhaps she could see the panic that he was sure was written all over his face. "Yes, thank you. I would like that very much."

Reid blinked, rather astonished that she had taken him up on the offer. He had, after all, crashed into her, split her coffee, stared at her like a halfwit and then proceeded to flounder his way through a conversation with her.

"I'll grab us a table." She smiled at him and then began to pick her way through the seating area.

Reid shook himself, trying to get rid of the persistent, nagging feeling that he was missing something. It was nerve-wracking enough that he was going to have to spend the next half hour or so talking to an extremely pretty girl and remain coherent enough not to come off as a complete idiot, without being plagued with a phantom feeling of déjà vu every time he looked at her.

The young genius went to queue at the counter and paid for another pair of coffees. When he turned around, he saw that Hermione had chosen at a table at the back of the seating area. He crossed the room and placed one of the cups down in front of her, then took the other chair.

Reid couldn't help but notice Hermione had picked the seat which placed her back against the wall. She had also positioned herself so that she had a clear line of sight to both the exits and entrances. His interest was roused and his profiling instincts kicked in. It was as if she had subconsciously prepared herself for an attack. Her behaviour was consistent with post-traumatic stress disorder...

Reid's train of thought suddenly derailed as Hermione leaned across the table towards him. The scent of a sweet perfume tickled his nose – apples, some part of his brain identified – and he was abruptly aware of how close she was. Of course, they couldn't get much closer than they had been when he tripped and fell on top of her, but this time it was deliberate – and for some reason, that seemed to make all the difference.

"I'm really not angry about it. No need to look so worried." The brunette smiled at him and then, to Reid's regret, withdrew across the table. The scent of apples lingered.

"Ah, thanks," the agent said awkwardly. His hands curled around his cup despite the scalding temperature. They were silent for a few seconds and a sense of panic blossomed in Reid. _Say something! _ his brain urged him.

_Like what? _ he yelled back. Then he realised what he was doing. _Great, now I'm arguing with myself._

_Just pick something to talk about!_

Reid groped for a suitable topic of conversation but his thoughts had scattered like a shoal of fish. His mind scrolled rapidly down the long list of subjects which he was extremely knowledgeable in but he was pretty sure very few of them would make the Morgan-approved list of 'things to talk about with women'.

Then Reid's brain threw up something, a fact that had previously only registered in his subconscious. "Are you from Britain?" he asked.

Hermione looked startled and lowered her cup. "I am. England, to be precise. How did you know?"

"You have an accent," Reid explained. It was true; the faintest trace existed in her voice. It was odd though, his profiler mind noted. How – apart from that slight clue – her voice was almost completely free of any sort of inflection. As if she had purposely tried to erase her accent.

"Oh." Emotion flashed across the brunette's face too swiftly to be identified. Then she smiled again. "That's pretty impressive. I didn't think I had much of an accent."

Reid experienced a brief panic as his brain presented him with a variety of possible responses but was saved from the struggle of having to decide when Hermione spoke first. "So where are you from? I'm afraid I'm not much of an authority on accents, so you'll have to let me in on the secret."

The agent smiled. This seemed a safe enough topic. "Las Vegas, Nevada."

Hermione's response was gratifying; her eyes brightened and she leaned towards him again, her posture radiating interest. "Really? Are you any good at cards then?"

"Not everyone from Vegas is a card shark, you know."

She laughed, though Reid had intended the comment in all seriousness. He was on the verge of deluging her in facts and statistics on the subject, when Morgan's voice echoed in his head, warning against it. He hesitated, then said instead, "But it just so happens that I am."

"Is that so?" There was a hint of teasing challenge in Hermione's voice and she leaned forward again. Reid found himself watching her lips – pink, soft and full – as she spoke. "Prove it."

xxx

Half an hour later, Reid was on the verge of acknowledging that perhaps he had finally met his match at cards. Hermione, he was realising, was not just distractingly pretty but also highly intelligent. Up until now, no-one had been able to best him, but the brunette's thought processes seemed to run just as fast as his and their speed of play was almost too swift for anyone else to follow.

To his surprise, Reid found that he was enjoying himself immensely. His nerves had subsided now that they were doing something he was confident with. He could scarcely believe that he had stumbled upon (literally) such clever, attractive woman – and one who actually seemed to like his company.

However, despite the distraction of new experiences, Reid still found himself absently profiling her body language without even thinking about it. Despite Hermione's evident enjoyment of the card games, he noticed that on some level she remained alert and on edge. It was obvious in the way her body never fully relaxed; her posture remained subtly poised, muscles tensed to either fight or flee. He observed how the brunette glanced up at the slightest disturbance and the way her hand would move instinctively to her left hip, as if to draw a gun.

Concern was slowly growing within Reid. Her behaviour was...wary. Cautious. As if she was regularly attacked and had grown used to expecting it at any moment.

"I believe I win this one."

The agent's attention was drawn back to Hermione. She had lain down her hand and was grinning like a Cheshire cat. It only took a glance to confirm that she was right; her hand was indeed the winning one. With a rueful sigh, Reid placed his own cards on the table. "Best seventeen out of thirty-two?" he asked, smiling.

Hermione glanced at the clock on the wall. "Ah, I'm sorry," she said apologetically. "I really have to be going. I should have been back half an hour ago; my friends will be worried."

"Oh." Reid felt rather deflated for several reasons. As a person, he was disappointed that Hermione was about to disappear from his life so quickly. He couldn't bring himself to hope that she would want to see him again in any capacity, either platonically or even romantically – he was hardly an expert, but he was sure that they had been subtly flirting for the duration of the card games. But the agent was resigned to the fact that, outside of his B.A.U. family, people never seemed to stay in his life for long.

However, as a profiler, he couldn't help but pick up on the wording of her sentence. Reid wondered if Hermione's life was being threatened in some way and that her friends would worry about her absence for that reason. Pushing aside his disappointment, he managed to smile at her again even though his mood had suddenly plummeted. "That's okay."

"Hey." Reid's breath caught in his throat as Hermione reached across the table and placed her hands on top of his. The familiarity of the gesture startled him but it was not unwelcome. Quite the opposite. "Don't be upset," she murmured.

He wasn't aware that his feelings were so apparent on his face but the agent couldn't quite bring himself to care about his transparency. He was too preoccupied with the feel of Hermione's hands resting lightly on his; acutely aware of the warmth and softness of her skin. Reid's own skin tingled in response.

The brunette smiled at Reid and squeezed his hands gently, almost affectionately. "I'd like to see you again sometime. This was really fun."

Astonishment flooded through Reid and he could only stare, shock rendering him mute. _She..._wants_ to see me again?_

Hermione released his hands – instinctive disappointment flashed through him – and began rummaging in a tiny little handbag that had been slung across her body. She produced a pen that he could have sworn was too small to fit in the bag and scribbled down a cell phone number on a spare napkin. "Here. Call me sometime."

Reid took it from her, still silent with shock, then she passed him the pen and another napkin. "Can I have yours too? If that's okay?"

The stunned agent murmured an affirmative, quickly writing down his own number and passing it back to her. The phone number and the pen vanished into Hermione's handbag and she beamed at him happily. "Thanks! See you soon, hopefully."

The brunette stood to leave and Reid finally regained some measure of his senses. He scrambled to his feet too. "Can I walk you to the bus stop...or wherever it is that you're going?"

"Oh!" Hermione looked both surprised and pleased. "You don't have to do that."

Encouraged by her expression, Reid screwed up his courage and managed to utter, "I'd like to though."

Hermione smiled, looking happy. "Well, if you're sure."

Reid nodded, elation filling him. _I think I'm getting this right! _ It was more than simple flirting or an attempt at a romantic gesture though; he was genuinely enjoying being with her, and wanted to prolong his time in her company for as long as possible. As much as he admired her strikingly pretty face and shapely figure, he was equally fascinated with her sharp mind and quick wits.

The two left Starbucks and began walking along the street, Hermione pointing them in the direction of the nearest bus stop. They talked together the entire way, the conversation bouncing from topic to topic and by the time they reached the bus stop, they were in deep discussion about the older series of Doctor Who of all things.

"This is my bus," Hermione said, as it drew up to the kerb. She looked just as disappointed as Reid felt. "I'll see you again?"

The lilt at the end of her voice made it a question and Reid nodded vigorously. "Definitely."

Hermione smiled at him warmly and hopped up onto the bus. "Goodbye Spencer."

The young genius watched as the vehicle pulled away into traffic, the sense of déjà vu that had been bothering him all morning fading as she got further away. "Goodbye...Hermione."

xxx

Hermione leaned back into her seat on the bus, closing her eyes. She was feeling the most peculiar mix of emotions; fear, elation, anxiety and irritation, all underlined by a warm glow of happiness.

Her initial reaction upon encountering the FBI agent was panic, especially when he seemed to recognise her – something which shouldn't have happened since Harry had wiped his memory. But then he had tried to make up for knocking her over...

_Stupid_, the witch berated herself. _You should have accepted his apology and politely declined the offer of more coffee._ But Spencer's awkward honesty had been so charming she had been unable to refuse.

The FBI agent had surprised her over the half hour she had spent with him in Starbucks. She had known of his intelligence of course, but it was another thing entirely to see it in action. Hermione had never had to work so hard to win at cards before and their subsequent conversations were of a much higher calibre than the ones she was used to holding on a daily basis (even if a lot of the subjects she was knowledgeable about couldn't be discussed with Spencer, being magical in nature.)

But even leaving aside her appreciation of someone who was on par with her mentally, Spencer had surprised her by appealing physically as well. He was rather good-looking in a tall, thin sort of way, and when they were playing cards, she had been continually distracted by how intense his almond-brown eyes were when he was concentrating.

Hermione had also astonished herself by the way she had teased him. Something about his embarrassment had been so endearing that she had been prompted to gentle flirtation right from the off. His further stumbles had only been more adorable and she couldn't help but love his awkwardness. So different from Ron and the one other boyfriend she had had previously.

_Boyfriend? I am really thinking about that already? _But Hermione couldn't deny that she was. She'd never been so instantly attracted to someone.

_What are you doing, girl? This is such a bad idea; I shouldn't even be entertaining it. What on earth possessed me to give him my phone number? I'm keeping probably the biggest secret in existence and I've taken it into my head to spend more time with an FBI agent, highly intelligent in his own right, and specially trained to analyse human behaviour. Not to mention we're currently busy chasing a rogue Death Eater. _ The witch scolded herself internally but her heart wasn't really in it. Already she was looking forward to seeing Spencer again and a frisson of excitement ran through her at the mere thought.

Hermione sighed and sank deeper into her seat. _I must be insane. It's the only explanation._

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**A/N: Quite a relationship-heavy chapter, I know, but Reid and Hermione needed to meet one another properly. What did you think? I've never tried writing romance before; was it okay? Let me know. :)**

**On a side note, does anyone want to suggest a U.S.A. city for me to base this story in? It doesn't really make a difference to the plotline, I just want to be able to call the city something other than 'the city'. Thanks! **

**Please review; I love hearing what you have to say. :)**


	4. To Unriddle Many Riddles

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed/favourite/alerted/viewed the last chapter! Especially to the reviewers; thank you, I read every single one of them and they make my day. :) I appreciate all of you taking the time and I hope you continue to enjoy my story.**

**I also hope to have the next update to you a bit faster next time. *sheepish look* I've starting watching Criminal Minds again, and hopefully that will inspire me to write faster. It did, in fact, help me finish this chapter. Cyber chocolate to whoever can find the direct quote from the show in this chapter. xD**

**Also, thanks to the people who suggested cities. I've settled on Chicago as the one this story takes place in...which was an unnecessary edition to this author note, since you'll find that out almost soon as you begin reading. x_x (Also, I should probably warn you that real-life geography will most likely be mangled horrifically.) Anyway. Onward!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Criminal Minds. If I did, I'd have enough money to be free to write whenever I wished.**

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**Murder Magic**

**Chapter Four: To Unriddle Many Riddles**

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"...so, my lovelies, I'm afraid that I've drawn a blank on that front. Whoever this creep is, his description doesn't much any of the registered sex offenders in the area. So either he's not local, or these murders aren't an escalation of previous crimes."

Gideon, Hotch, Morgan, JJ and Prentiss were gathered around the largest desk in the B.A.U.'s assigned workspace, listening to Garcia's report on loudspeaker.

"Thanks anyway, Garcia," Hotch said, sounding tired. "Call us if you turn up anything else."

"Well, actually there is one other thing–"

As Penelope's familiar voice washed over her, JJ's attention began to drift. Despite the seriousness of the situation, the blonde agent was unable to keep her focus entirely on the job; mainly because Reid had been gone an awfully long time. He was only supposed to have been getting coffee...

Five minutes later her fears were proved unfounded as the young genius walked in through the front doors of Chicago's police headquarters, safe and sound.

"Hey, Spence," she called, feeling a little sheepish. She couldn't help worrying about him though. She worried about _all_ the members of their little family.

The rest of the team looked up at her greeting. "Where've you been, pretty boy?" Morgan asked, slapping him on the back as Reid wandered over to take his place beside them.

To their joint surprise, the resident genius flushed pink. "Um... I was just getting coffee."

Morgan's eyes narrowed, then he began grinning. "Uh huh. Sure. You're talking to a team of profilers, kid. Who is she?"

Reid's blush deepened. "What! I don't – I mean, it wasn't –" he stammered, looking completely wrong-footed.

"My man!" Morgan slapped him on the back again, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

An ear-splitting squeal came from the phone in the centre of the desk. "Did I hear that right? Has our Reid met a girl? Oh, tell me everything! What's her name?"

"Ah, Hermione," the young agent managed, now flaming red with embarrassment at the attention.

"Hermione...?" Garcia demanded over the phone.

"Granger," Reid replied, looking as if he wished he could sink through the floor. JJ, watching the unfolding drama with amusement, decided to step in and rescue him but Hotch beat her to it.

"Garcia," he said, interrupting the technical analyst as she began another round of excited questions. "As much as we admire your enthusiasm, could you save it for later? We _are_ in the middle of a case."

"Oh, right. Sorry." Penelope's reply was a little more subdued. Then she audibly perked up again. "Reid! Expect a phone call later, little Romeo! You're going to tell me _everything_!" The young agent looked appropriately terrified by this threat.

"Thank you, Garcia," Hotch said pointedly.

"You, my fine furry friends, are welcome!" The blonde tech sang happily. "Garcia out!" There was a beep and the phone went dead.

Silence reigned. Prentiss and JJ were trying to hide their amusement. Morgan was openly grinning. Gideon just seemed bemused and Reid looked vastly relieved.

Hotch frowned. "Remind me to have her drug-tested."

xxx

Hermione got off the bus at the first available stop and found a bench to sit on outside a newsagent. She remained there for about five minutes, calming herself and clearing her mind as best she could of all thoughts of a certain profiler. Then she found a secluded alley and Apparated directly into the hotel room.

Ginny looked up from she was sprawled on the bed at the sound of the other witch's arrival. The redhead had a map of Chicago spread out in front of her, and a green marker pen in her hand. By the looks of it, she had been circling small areas of the city.

"Hi," Hermione greeted, depositing her bag on the coffee table. "Harry and Ron still gone?" They had managed to beat the police to the crime scene the previous night and for the first time they had also picked up faint traces of a magical signature at the dump site. It had revitalised them all, infusing the four friends with renewed energy at the thought that the Death Eater had finally made a mistake. Harry and Ron had been manually tracking the magic since very early that morning.

"Yep." Ginny waved a hand at the map. "They're still calling to check in every fifteen minutes or so."

Hermione joined her on the bed, the soft mattress sinking under her weight, and scrutinised the map alongside the redheaded witch. "I take it the circled areas are places where there are particularly strong traces of the magical signature?"

Ginny sighed. "Yes. But if you ask me, the Death Eater is on to us. The trail Harry and Ron are following just meanders across the entire city. It's as if this guy's just gone for an aimless wander through Chicago's streets after he's dumped a body."

"As you do," Hermione said absently, still looking at the map, her mind racing. "You don't think that perhaps he's trying to distract us? Laying a false trail for us to follow, while he's off doing something else? In fact, he could even be on the hunt. He's just killed one girl; he could already be searching for a replacement."

Ginny straightened. "You might be right. That does make sense."

"Then _we _should be checking some of these other areas," Hermione said briskly, getting to her feet again and swiping her bag back off the table. "The ones that's he's _not _left a trail through."

The brunette waited patiently as the other witch quickly phoned the young men and informed them of the new game plan. "Harry said for us to be careful, and that he and Ron are going to keep following the traces of magic, just in case," Ginny relayed, hanging up.

Hermione nodded, pleased. "That's good. I might be wrong about this."

Ginny mock-gasped. "Really? I didn't think it was possible."

The brunette witch picked up an apple from the fruit bowl and threw it at her friend by way of an answer. Ginny dodged nimbly and Apparated away with a crack, laughing all the while. A heartbeat later, Hermione followed.

xxx

It was after midnight when Reid finally let himself into his room at the hotel the B.A.U. were staying in. He breathed a sigh of relief as the door shut and let his shoulders slump. Meeting Hermione had been the one bright spot in an otherwise awful day. The team had gotten practically nowhere on the case – this Unsub was practically a ghost – and Reid had had to endure Morgan's winks and nudges and sly comments all day. He could only be thankful that Garcia hadn't carried out her threat to phone him and deluge him in questions –

At that very second, his cell rang. The agent groaned, wishing he could pretend he hadn't heard it. Ignoring it was futile, however; the blonde tech analyst would simply phone back again and again and again until he picked up.

Reid sighed and simply resigned himself to the impending interrogation. He hit the receive button, followed by loudspeaker, and began undressing for bed. "Hello, Garcia."

"Reid!" Penelope's exuberant tones filled the room. "How are you, my little genius?"

"I'm fine," Reid said automatically, stifling a yawn as he tugged his socks off.

Garcia heard the tiredness in his voice and 'hmmed' sceptically, but let it pass. "So..." she paused and then continued in a breathless rush. "Tell me about Hermione! What's she like? Is she pretty? Is she smart? I bet she is! How did you two meet? Are you seeing her again?"

_Hopefully,_ Reid thought to himself, feeling that sensation of buoyant happiness swell to fill his chest again at the mere thought. Aloud, he began answering Garcia's questions as she listened in delight. Then he recounted the coffee shop meeting in detail and finished up by telling her how he had walked Hermione to the bus stop.

Garcia's happy sigh echoed down the phone. "That's so sweet. Though I still can't believe it took a girl being literally face-to-face with you to get you to notice her, Reid," Penelope said. He could hear the smile in her voice.

"Yeah, well," Reid said awkwardly, a little embarrassed. Morgan joked constantly about his apparent obliviousness to attractive females. But that wasn't true. He simply wasn't used to them paying him any attention and so didn't give any in return. Perhaps he should have though. Hermione had certainly responded well.

"Anyway, I'll go now and let you get some sleep." Garcia blew a kiss into the phone. "Au revoir, mon cher!"

Then she hung up and Reid found himself smiling. Garcia tended to have that effect on people who talked to her for any length of time. "Goodnight to you too."

Ten minutes later, the agent switched off lights and finally, _finally _got into bed. His eyes were just beginning to close when the shrill ring of his cell phone shattered the silence. _Not again! _Reid gave a heartfelt groan and began groping blindly in the dark for the irritating object. He found it and picked it up, bringing it to his ear. "Hello?" he said, yawning.

"Oh, Reid, you weren't asleep already, were you?" Garcia sounded both guilty and anxious.

"No," the agent sighed, letting his head fall back against the pillow. "Did you forget something?"

"Not exactly," the tech analyst hedged. "It's just...Reid, don't be cross with me, but I ran a check on Hermione –"

"What?" The young genius was sitting upright now, wide awake. "Why?"

"I was _worried_," Garcia cried. "After what you said about her behaviour, about how she seemed to expect an attack at any moment – I thought maybe she had been abused, or had somebody after her, or _something_! I swear I didn't go digging through any really personal stuff, it was just a surface skim!"

"I know," said Reid, calming down slightly. "I believe you." His instinctive reaction had been to bristle with indignation on Hermione's behalf but now his brain had kicked in, and logic told him that Garcia was just concerned and protective; she wasn't trying to find fault.

"It's just that anything that hurts you, hurts me too, Reid." Penelope sounded relieved. "I worry about my family, and I can tell you're already crazy about Hermione."

"So what did you find out about her that was so urgent that it couldn't wait until morning?" Reid asked, a sense of dread growing within him.

"Oh, sugar, it was more like what I _didn't_ find that scared me. Officially, your girl hasn't existed since she was eleven years old."

"I – what?" asked Reid, confused.

"Exactly!" Garcia exclaimed. "I don't understand either. All records of her vanish shortly before her twelfth birthday and I can't find anything else, no matter how hard I look. And you know how supremely awesome I am," she added, crossly. "I _should _be able to find it. But there's nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Either the information isn't out there, or it's hidden insanely well."

"And both of those scenarios raise their own questions," Reid murmured, deeply troubled by the revelation.

There was silence for a few seconds. Then Garcia ventured, "Maybe she was kidnapped?"

"Doubt it. Her parents would have filed a missing person report. Is there one on record?"

"...No."

Reid heard the sound of Garcia clicking her pen thoughtfully. "Then maybe she's in hiding?"

"How would an eleven year old girl make the kind of enemy that might force her to do that?" the genius pointed out, his tone distracted. His mind was churning through various scenarios on its own but it was coming up blank every time.

The blonde tech blew out a frustrated huff of breath. "What about her parents then? Maybe they're spies or something!"

Reid's brain paused in the middle of its own frantic whirring. "Could you check their information too?"

"Of course." The faint tapping of keys echoed over the phone. The young agent waited. Then – "Nothing. Perfectly normal people. Dentists, in fact."

Reid sighed and leant back against the headboard. "I suppose –"

"Ooh, wait! There _is _something!"

"Yes?" the genius straightened again, alert.

"Nothing concrete, unfortunately, just more of the same bizarreness that seems to surround their daughter. But about three years ago, _they_ vanished off the radar too, in July. Then they re-emerged almost exactly twelve months later, in the June of the following year.

Reid frowned. "Then where did they go for a year?"

"Not a clue, my sweet. But I _will_ keep searching!" The determination in Penelope's tone left no doubts about that. She seemed to have taken it as a personal challenge. "I'll call if – no, _when_ – I find something else. Garcia out!"

The line went dead. Reid sank back into the pillows. Worries and half-formed theories chased one another around inside his tired brain. _What is going on?_

It was a long time before he fell into a troubled sleep, but he did so with one thought in mind. _Hermione, who __**are **__you?_

xxx

Lisa Ferguson heaved a sigh as she trudged along the sidewalk. The weight of her rucksack was killing her back and her feet ached terribly. It felt as if she had been walking for miles, instead just a couple of blocks.

_That's what I get for taking so many subjects_, the sixteen-year-old berated herself. _I mean, Ancient Runes on top of everything else! What was I thinking?_

Not about the weight of her bag, that was for sure. Lisa rolled her shoulders in an attempt to relieve the ache, to no avail.

She walked on, moving through the gathering dusk. The last faint light of day had disappeared and somewhere, past the yellow haze of light pollution tainting the night sky, the first stars were coming out.

Lisa jumped as a faint noise rang out behind her. Whirling around, she scanned the deserted street with a pounding heart. A cat weaved out from amongst a group of bins and meowed at her, before vanishing into someone's garden.

_Just a cat._ The witch fought down the almost hysterical urge to giggle. She quickened her pace nonetheless. The recent string of killings had the entire school on edge, and Lisa had particular reason to worry. She was, after all, Muggleborn.

Her thoughts returned to her parents, as they did so often of late, and she began biting her lip. The Headmistress had placed additional wards around the houses of all the Muggleborn students who went to her school, but Lisa still fretted over her parents' safety on a daily basis. She, at least, could defend herself if caught out in the open. Like where she was right now.

Glancing around, Lisa increased her pace even further. The Muggleborn witch couldn't stand the current atmosphere in her school; the undercurrent of tension and muted fear. It made her feel small, crushed in, her chest tight with a panicky, claustrophobic sensation. As if the building was crowding around her, shrinking down until she was trapped in a tiny space.

Which was exactly the reason Lisa was walking home. If she remained stuck inside for her every waking hour, she was going to have some sort of breakdown. And it was only a few blocks from the school to her house.

However, even that short distance felt increasingly risky of late, and Lisa was reminded of that as another faint noise came from behind her. Her nervousness ratcheted up another notch and the Muggleborn witch sped up.

A sudden loud crack resonated through the street behind her and then there was the sound of footsteps, echoing off the tarmac.

_Oh, gods._ Cold fear shot through Lisa. Her fight-or-flight instinct kicked in and all rational thought fled. Every sense just screamed, _go! _Her limbs obeyed and she began flat out _running_.

The witch's breath heaved in and out of her lungs and her blood roared in her ears as she shot down the street. The heavy book bag banged against her back but the pain was barely felt, lost in the sudden adrenaline rush.

_Nearly there, nearly there! _Her house was just the next street over; if she could reach she would have the protection of the wards while she Floo'd the school –

Lisa rounded the corner – and ran straight into something very solid. She rebounded and crashed painfully to the ground. For a moment, she just lay there, stunned. The impact had jarred her badly enough to make her head swim and waves of pain radiated through her body. She could feel blood trickling from the deep scrapes on her bare arms.

Then there was a soft rustle of robes and Lisa forgot all about the pain in a sudden rush of terror. Belated, she realised that she hadn't run into some_thing_, but rather some_one_. The Muggleborn witch froze, not daring to look up. _Like small creature hiding from a predator_, she thought hysterically. _Go very still and maybe it won't see you. Yeah, right._

A hand touched her shoulder and she flinched violently. "Hey, are you okay?"

The voice was warm and concerned and above all, _familiar_. Lisa's eyes darted up and, sure enough, met a very handsome face; one she saw on a daily basis.

"Oh, thank _God_," the witch breathed, sagging as the tension leeched out of her. The sense of relief was overpowering; the feeling was so light and buoyant she thought that she might actually float off the sidewalk. "It's just you."

"What's wrong?" His voice was friendly and worried at the same time.

"I –" Lisa ran a shaking hand through her blonde hair, suddenly acutely aware of her dishevelled state. She was bathed in sweat, her hair was in complete disarray and she was almost certain she was bright red in the face from running so hard. The only plus side was he probably couldn't tell that she was blushing fiercely at the mere fact he was talking to her. "I thought someone was following me." She twisted around but the street was deserted. No sign of whoever it was that had Apparated in, or whoever had been walking along the road behind her.

"Well, you probably shouldn't be out and about by yourself in any case." His voice was mildly chiding as he offered her his hand.

Lisa grasped it, feeling her cheeks get even hotter at the skin-to-skin contact, and he pulled her gently to her feet. His eyes roved over her, taking in her injuries with concern. "Let me escort you to the hospital. You should get those looked at."

"Um, my parents are expecting me..." Lisa hesitated. She hated how childish that made her sound but she didn't want them to worry either.

"It won't take long." His voice was warm, deep, overlain with rich cadences. Persuasive. Alluring.

She almost forgot how to breathe. "O-okay," Lisa stammered, internally cursing herself for blushing even harder. It was positively heart-stopping to be the focus of such an intense pair of eyes.

"Excellent." His hand was on the small of her back, gently guiding her away. The sanctuary of her home receded into the distance. "Don't worry." He flashed a brilliant, beautiful smile down at her. "I'll take care of you."

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**A/N: Thanks for reading! :D Please leave a review. Thanks.**


	5. The Senselessness of Suffering

**A/N: Thank you to all my readers and reviewers! We broke the hundred review mark, woo! Also, thank you for your patience; a PM from **Hexal **kickstarted me into writing this again. *is guilty* Sorry it takes me so long to write.**

**Also, for those of you still wondering, the quote taken directly from the show in the last chapter was actually two lines. Garcia says: "You, my fine furry friends, are welcome." And Hotch says to the team: "Remind me to have her drug tested." xD Though I can't remember what episode that was in now. Google it!  
**

**WARNING: I should say that if you are of a sensitive disposition, you might want to skip the first section of this chapter (though, then again, you probably wouldn't be watching Criminal Minds if that were the case.) Anyhow, I creeped myself out a bit writing it, so don't read it if you think it might upset you, 'kay? 'Kay. :)**

**Disclaimer: Don't own. (I **_**wish**_**.)**

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**Murder Magic**

**Chapter Five: ****The Senselessness of Suffering**

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Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Lisa was dimly aware of the sound. She knew what it meant, recognised it from somewhere, but her tired mind couldn't quite make the connection.

The only thing her brain could focus on was exactly how much pain she was in. Her knees ached from prolonged contact with the cold, stone floor. Her arms burned from being held constantly above her head, secured to a chain hanging from the ceiling. A hysterical voice in her head drew comparisons to meat hanging on a butcher's hook. Her hands were numb, the bindings on her wrists so tight that they cut off the blood circulation to her fingers.

But by far the worst was the bright slashes of agony burning across every part of her body. Lisa shuddered with the strength of the pain. She could still feel vividly the sensation of the blade sliding slowly across her skin, parting the flesh and letting the blood spill out. Her tremors grew worse as she remembered the way he had murmured poisonous words, velvet soft, in her ear; the way his left hand had gently caressed her bare skin, in a mocking parody of a lover, while his right hand had slowly cut lines into her body with excruciating, torturous precision.

Lisa's brain replayed the memories over and over, her mind unable to focus on anything else other than the physical and psychological torture that she had been through. Every attempt to shift position slightly to relieve the ache of fatigue in her muscles, made a wave of fire sweep through her body as the damaged flesh shrieked a protest. The blonde witch was painfully aware of every single one of her wounds, of the long, narrow lines of agony etched in her skin. Rivulets of blood trickled down her arms, down her torso, down her legs, pooling on the cold, stone floor.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Lisa hung, trembling with fear, pain and exhaustion, wishing she could just pass out, could just fade into the merciful oblivion of unconsciousness. Every moment felt as if it stretched out into an eternity. The only things that seemed to exist in the entire world were the sound of her laboured breathing, loud in the silence, and the agony that wracked her body.

A loud crack echoed in the silence of the darkened room. Lisa's entire body went suddenly, completely rigid. Ice and terror filled her, so strong that for a moment her heart almost seemed to stop. The blonde's breath caught in her throat and the hairs rose on the back of her neck, as the soft swish of robes and the feeling of a presence filled the space behind her.

"Good morning." The same rich, alluring voice that had filled with her relief only yesterday now sent fear cascading through her. Lisa choked back a whimper. How could she have been so stupid as to trust this man? Let him lead her away from her house, when safety had been mere metres away?

"I do hope you haven't been bored without me. I'm afraid I had to take care of something."

Footsteps echoed on the stone floor behind her and the witch tensed even more. There was a soft thud. She flinched violently as a pair of arms snaked around her waist and pulled her back against velvety robes.

"But don't worry. I'm finished now and I can spend the _whole_ day with you." His voice was both soft and malicious; as contradictory as the brush of his long fingers down her cheek; a gentle sensation that jarred horribly with the pain caused as he touched the wounds he had inflicted.

Lisa closed her eyes in dread, biting back a cry of fear as she heard the metallic rasp of a knife leaving its sheath.

"Won't that be fun?"

xxx

_It was dark all around him. Reid strained his eyes, but there wasn't even the faintest glimmer of light to see by. Nevertheless, he ran, fleeing through the darkness from a nameless terror. As he stumbled and tripped over something, quiet, whispery laughter rose all around him – as if a thousand ghosts were laughing at his expense._

"_Reeeeeid..." The voices echoed through the nothingness, as dry and scratchy as dead leaves skittering across the ground. "Reeeeeid…"_

"_Spencer!" A voice, loud and clear and laced with worry, rang out above the ghost-voices. _

_**Hermione.**_

"_Spencer!" Her cry seemed to trail off, and then her voice began fading in and out, as if he were listening to a radio with poor reception. "…not stupid…stick around…in his madness…go and find…re-group…finished by now." And then, very quietly and clearly, "Oops."_

_Then a different voice entirely spoke, one that struck chords of recognition within Reid; familiar but yet forgotten, and the shock of remembrance felt like being drenched in a shower of icy-cold water. "I'll take care of it."_

_A pair of intense green eyes seemed to fill the darkness, and then the voice spoke again. A single word fell softly from unseen lips. "__**Oblivate**__**.**__"_

Reid shot upright in bed, gasping. The hotel room was still dark, though the faint light around the curtains suggested that morning wasn't far off. His panicked breathing sounded loud in the pre-dawn quiet.

_What on earth was that?_

The dream could have been something created by his subconscious, but it hadn't felt like that. It had felt like –

_A memory._

Excitement rose in Reid. He could have sworn he had never heard the voice in his dream before; but at the same time, on some level, it had sounded familiar. Which was impossible, because he remembered everything. He could only think of one reason – that he _had _heard it and had forgotten, courtesy of a blow to the back of the head.

A sense of hope swelled within Reid. Perhaps his memories were coming back! He threw aside the covers and began pacing up and down the length of the room, filled with a sudden restless energy. The feeling of relief was indescribable. He had been desperately afraid that the damage was permanent.

Then again, it was obvious that it had been a fragmented memory, mixed up with other things. After all, Hermione had been in the dream too…

Suddenly uncomfortable with where that train of thought was going, for some reason, Reid pushed it away and ignored the niggling little worry trying to catch his attention. Instead he focused on trying to remember the rest of the memory.

The profiler was still there an hour later, when his phone rang. With a sigh of frustration, Reid got up and crossed the room to get it off his bedside table. He couldn't recall anything else. The gap in his memories hadn't been filled; he only had a clear recollection of the dream. Clearly, he was only remembering subconsciously.

"Hello? Reid here," the profiler said absently, his mind still elsewhere.

"Reid, it's Hotch." The grim tone of his superior's voice made him straighten up. "I know it's early, but we're leaving for the police station right now. Another girl was taken last night."

The young genius' heart sank. "On my way."

xxx

The profilers spent an hour going over the new information together, before they spilt up. Prentiss and Morgan left to interview the family of Lisa Ferguson, and JJ and Hotch were holding a press conference. They hadn't been able to put it off any longer; Lisa was the thirteenth girl to be kidnapped in seventeen days and the reporters and journalists were eagerly clamouring for information.

Reid sighed and placed a new pin in his map. JJ was going to release the profile of a sexually sadistic killer, along with the physical description of the black-haired, green-eyed young man. They were only stating that he was 'wanted for questioning'. Because, really, the only evidence against him was the fact that he was present at the aftermath of the majority of the crime scenes.

_Unfortunately, that's all __we've got to go on. _The young genius glanced across the room, where Gideon was flipping through the files of the murdered girls yet again, trying in vain to find some new connection between them. Apart from determining the type of serial killer the Unsub was and the likely nuances of his personality, the B.A.U. team had very little to work with. He had left behind practically no evidence; at least, nothing that could be traced. So that left the B.A.U. chasing their one lead; the persistent presence of this young man with black hair at the crime scenes.

Reid stepped back from his board to survey the geographical profile. It was distinctly unhelpful. He sighed and turned away, his eyes landing once more on Gideon flicking through the information collected on the victims. Reid couldn't help but feel that they were missing something vital in victimology, some missing link between the girls. The way the Unsub killed them…it seemed far too personal and filled with hatred to be random.

"Reid?"

The young profiler looked up to see Hotch and JJ coming into the room, looking more tired than ever.

"I don't suppose you could get us all coffee? Morgan and Prentiss will be back soon and then we can regroup and share information. I think we'll all need the caffeine to support us."

"Sure," Reid gave Hotch a brief smile, hiding his concern at how tired the older man looked. "I'll be right back."

xxx

When Reid walked into Starbucks, he was so thoroughly preoccupied with trying to work out what it was that they were missing about the case, that he didn't immediately notice Hermione. In fact, he didn't even see the brunette until he was standing beside right her, his brain pulled out of its inner contemplation as his eyes suddenly registered what they were looking at.

Hermione was leaning against one of the little counters, adding sugar to one of the four cups in front of her. The sight of her triggered that feeling of déjà vu again, even stronger than before, and all the questions generated by the information Garcia had uncovered last night rose in his mind. However, they were pushed aside as he really took in her appearance and realised that the young woman looked completely exhausted. There were dark circles under her eyes and her hair looked wild and untamed. It had clearly not seen a brush that morning. Reid found it oddly endearing but that emotion was quickly overrode by a sense of concern for her wellbeing.

"Hermione?" the profiler asked. "Are you okay?"

The brunette jerked convulsively, her hand flying to her hip as if to draw a weapon, before she realised who it was. "Oh, Spencer," she said, straightening a little and attempting a smile. It didn't work very well. "Good morning. Nice to see you. I didn't expect us to meet in Starbucks again."

Reid's concern had only been deepened by her reaction. Why did she seem to expect to be attacked? "Well, it is the same Starbucks," he pointed out reasonably, before moving on to what he really wanted to say. "Hermione, are you feeling alright? You look…" he hesitated, not wanting to offend her.

"Terrible?" Hermione offered, running a hand through her unruly hair and giving him a wan smile. "No, it's fine, I'm not upset," she said, waving away the beginnings of his stuttered protestations. "I know I look bad. It's just that I barely slept last night, I was so worried."

"What happened?" Reid asked curiously.

"I… " the young woman exhaled heavily and looked away. "Two of my friends were out virtually all night. They were only supposed to have been gone a couple of hours but they didn't get back to our hotel until 5 o'clock this morning. Ginny – another of my friends – and I were worried sick that something had happened to them."

Something clicked in Reid's head and suddenly a lot of strange things about Hermione's behaviour seemed to slide into place. "Oh! I see. You mean the serial killer?" he asked. That made an awful lot of sense. He remembered Hermione telling him yesterday that she was visiting Chicago with three friends; they must be cursing their appalling timing. Perhaps her wary, cautious behaviour was because she _was _afraid of being attacked – by the Unsub. It felt like the truth, but it also felt like he was still missing something.

Hermione looked completely startled, almost dropping her coffee cup. "E-excuse me?"

"I meant that you were worried about them being attacked by the serial killer who is currently at large. The one that my unit is currently tracking down," Reid explained, though he was sure that she knew what he had been referring to and had simply been surprised that he had guessed correctly.

"Oh, right." Hermione hastily mopped up the bit of expresso that had been spilled with a paper napkin. "Yes, I _was _worried about them being attacked by the killer. They're a headstrong pair of idiots," she added, clear affection in her voice. "And if you don't mind, I'd best be off to bring them and Ginny their coffee."

"Of course," Reid moved out of her way. "I'll speak to you later."

The brunette gave the first real smile he'd seen from her all day and placed the four cups of coffee into a paper tray. She made to walk past him but he reached out and gently caught her right wrist. She halted and looked at him inquisitively.

"Hey," Reid said, trying his best to be reassuring. The concerned little crease of her brows made him want to ease her mind. "It'll be okay, alright? We'll catch him. Don't worry."

Hermione smiled at him again. "I'll try."

Reid smiled back tentatively and was about to release her wrist, when his eyes dropped down and suddenly his breath seemed to turn to ice in his lungs. Hermione's sleeve had been pushed up slightly, exposing part of her forearm – and a scar that he had seen on the bodies of twelve dead girls.

_Mudblood._

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**A/N: I'm so evil, aren't I? Thanks for reading, and I hope you review as well! :D**


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